


Ministry

by blythely



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - 19th Century, Catholic Apostolics, London, M/M, Prostitution, Rentboys, Strapping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-26
Updated: 2013-04-26
Packaged: 2017-12-09 13:13:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/774605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blythely/pseuds/blythely
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I stopped short when he knelt before me on the floor and put his finger to my mouth.</p><p>"Please," he said. "Let me tell you all I have done that you may know I need your--God's--help."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ministry

  
_Various philanthropic individuals have tried the plan of holding midnight meetings in rooms contiguous to the haunts of vice. Sorry should I be to appear even to slight the efforts of any fellow-labourer, but truth compels me to say that of all the useless expedients adopted for remedying by private measures public wrong, this seems about the worst. Such public exhibitions and appeals to excited feelings are scarcely calculated to produce durable impressions._  
  
W. Acton.  Prostitution Considered in its Moral, Social, and Sanitary Aspects, 1870.

\--

I have been at pains to fall asleep quickly on retiring, but this last week has given us heat of such oppression that even the stone walls of my cell seem like the bricks of a bakery. I am not, it seems, to be blessed with sweet unconsciousness in such a swelter, and have thrown off blankets and robe and lie here even in my undershirt, yet I cannot find peace.

I can hear the Father in the cell next to my own.

He is a man of fierce stricture and devotion; whose piety frightens me I admit, for it is the sort which brooks no manner of straying from our given path. At such instances as we are at work in the gardens, or even at meal-times, he has such an expression of concentration that I feel ashamed of my own wandering mind. But he is older; perhaps his mind is calmed by his years of service. Perhaps his strictness has its uses in the development of a true worship, as he would admonish me, but I cannot hear his strap without an uneasy mind and a flush upon my skin.

No sound reaches through the walls except for the echoed crack of leather on his body; no groans or cries, although his punishment seems to me such that would make boys weep at their fathers to stop, and grown men to shout for a cease. It is said amongst the brothers that he learnt flagellation from the Father previous, who I never met, having been novitiate only since I were fifteen. The Father makes no demand on any of us to follow his example of self-punishment, yet to me it seems he will often speak the benefits of discipline, both in faith and in conversing with God.

He in Heaven knows that I need help with both.

I cannot help myself but count under my breath the number of blows he delivers. So many times have I listened, rigid upon my cot with fascination, that I can hear the pause when he must switch the strap between his hands. Tonight, even in this stinking heat, I have counted one hundred and grown more wretched with each sound. I am resolved to grip my bedslats until my terrible affliction passes, for what manner of man - what manner of man who pretends to honour God - finds himself aroused at such a thing as another man's punishment?

\--

_Dearest Mother,_

_I pray you and all our family receive this in the best of health. I am now at liberty to correspond with you each month, and I hope you may see and be glad that my learning is greatly improved from my schooldays._

_I am now ex-novitiate, having ended my third year and taken preliminary orders. I am to proceed with labours in service outside of the seminary and will leave my liturgical researches aside for a time. London has for so long been merely spires and smoke in the distance, and the sound of street-sellers and the carts on the cobbles, that I now confess to some anxiety about what I am to do. Indeed I feel I am ill-equipped for such a task as Father Severus has chosen for me, yet I am assured by his determination that a difficult task mastered is the most pleasing to God. Difficult this will be, for I am to be amongst those of such low poverty, of mind and spirit as well as means, that are forced to sell themselves to others. I beg your pardon for the mention of such things and pray you omit this when you tell the news to Ginny. Tell her only that I will minister amongst the poor of St Giles and Bloomsbury and she will be concerned enough. We are told of many an ill-deed amongst the gin-slums there - only two days earlier a man knifed at mid-morning, if our stable-man is to be believed, and he has offered me a lesson in boxing before my ministry is to start._

_I am stronger of faith than when we spoke in wintertime, for I have learned some degree of patience within, and am not taken by the tongues with such force and surprise as alarmed you when I were younger. Still I am one of few who speak freely to God in such a manner, and have been allowed to admit that this blessing does not come without trial and loneliness.Yet I take comfort in my surroundings here and the knowledge that I am no longer a burden to Father and yourself._

_We are stifled by alternating storms and scorching heat this fortnight, yet the congregants have swelled in numbers these last two Sundays and raise their voices in such a way that they may be heard in Tavistock Square. We are fortunate for this makes not only Our Lord well pleased but the Deacons also, and when they are pleased, we that are not yet ordained may be lucky to get fruitcake for supper._

_May the Lord bless you and the Blessed Mother keep you, and do kiss what new nieces and nephews I may now have._

_Your loving son,_  
Ronald  
  
\--

 

No quantity of reading could have prepared me for this ministry and how I did flounder. Even though the Father bade me not wear those forms of vestment that proclaim the Apostolic creed, I still felt I were the sore thumb that sticks out when I first took to the streets. It is no matter that in my mind the Church of England is closer to the old faith than to the Protestant strictness of the Low Countries, for even in this year 1878 we are suspected of superstitious popery. But matters of doctrine mean nothing to those whom I was meant to reform and to save for God's grace, for the squalor and meanness of their lives precluded any thoughts of Our Father and his Kingdom. A good meal and lodgings that did not let in the rain were foremost in these wretches' minds, if they had any thought beyond the procurement of Mother's Ruin.

At first, I was to walk down Gower Street to the lanes around St Giles Circus and spend the evening in search of those women who had come upon the town and speak with them of God's grace. Many laughed, many spat, and not a few made suggestions that I might enjoy to partake of their custom whilst I extolled them of the mercy of Our Lady. Weeks I spent in such endeavours, exhausted and in the main dejected, for the whores would give me their own practised sermons on the usefulness of their trade. Perhaps one night in seven I might convince some wretch to seek employ or refuge away from the sordid alley in which I found her.

But the Father, to my amazement, did not berate me for my failure but instead seemed pleased even though I would stumble in far past the Compline bell having brought no souls to Christ the King. So you may imagine my surprise when he gave me a sheet with addresses and bade me attend upon those places in C______ Street instead of the warrens and alleys. If you have not read in The Times of these houses you will not know that here men may buy the pleasure of other men in a sort of private place; not subject to the prying eyes and journalists who loiter Shaftesbury Avenue and the Burlington Arcade.

\--

A boldness I never had before came upon me the first nights I went to C______ Street. I would like to say that God filled me with zeal for His mission, but in truth I know that the dollies of St Giles had hardened my eye and my heart, and I had no timidity. Indeed I was almost eager in my tread upon the steps, for all these houses were upstairs or downstairs with but yellow roses in their windows to be seen from the street and advertise the activities therein.

A sweet smell that I was to later learn was opium permeated the rooms in which I found myself. For some nights I was confused by the manners of my own sex; some were effeminate more than the women who had lifted their skirts mockingly at me; some were lumbering and heavy-browed; I could not tell who would be touched by the words of Our Lord. Those young boys--and I myself am young, but these were lads that had known short trousers in the past five years--whom I thought would turn away from vice through a sympathetic appeal to family and their futures were hardened and determined to stay their course. Yet I might find a young man who seemed to have been merely waiting to hear but half a sentence of my argument, and would take what coat or hat as he possessed and depart the house.

I did find that the rescue of these boys seemed a pleasure all the more sweeter for that it was an unnatural longing they were turned to, and said so to Father Severus. He who had been so very--and I do not employ this term with any levity-- _proud_ of my progress did then appear to frown and remind me of confession, though I had just partaken.

It was that night following that I again (after so many weeks of exhaustion, asleep before I stumbled abed) laid awake to listen, and found myself gripped with arousal at the sounds from the Father's cell once more. I knew now that this was no singular affliction, for there were houses in which I had heard the same sounds accompanied by pleasure, and I cried out in the strange tongue that overcomes me, beseeching help and understanding. None did come before sleep.

\--

He was fair as an angel, the boy who was to prove my undoing, and that fairness did draw me to him for I thought that God could not want such a creature to delve in vice. He was leaning out a balcony of Number 47, smoking like so many do, and I have learnt to carry tobacco and vestas so as to gain admittance to their presence.

I had offered him my pouch and moved out to stand with him, and was agape to ask my normal question when he leaned forward to stroke a hand in my hair.

"I have not had an Irishman," he said, and stepped forward so I might see his attire, which was uncommonly fine, even for those who were favourites and so were well-dressed.

I took his hand and removed it to the railing. "And I am not one, though all Londoners do seem to assume such."

His eyebrows raised at this and he drew down on his cigarette. "A redhead, then, for I have not had one that I remember, and none that were as pretty as you."

Such words still make my cheeks burn, even though I have heard them so often they have become worthless.

"Do you think that God approves of your vice?" I asked, but he had turned away to adjust the curtain closer, perhaps thinking that I was here to buy his services on the balcony. Such acceptance of his fate made my heart constrict, for how can it be that a man sees no other path than that of giving up himself without complaint? I was determined. "He would welcome you back as a lost lamb, if you would turn away."

He considered me at length, and it was then that he noticed my collar. "You are either a new fashion for play," and at this he grinned lecherously, "else this house must have a queer policy on admittance." He stepped forward. "I most sincerely hope it is the former, for I am fond of a masquerade."

"I am sorry to have to disappoint you," and I did almost add _Sir_ , for this man was as tall as I and of good bearing although he cannot have been older than twenty, "but I am admitted here through my own stealth, for the purpose of speaking God's forgiveness to those who have strayed."

"That must be very tiresome for you," he replied, "are you at all successful? Do you find whores to be a welcoming audience for sermons? Although--" here he laughed, "I see that a congregration well-used to kneeling might be encouraging."

"You do not mean to mock, I am sure," I said, as he continued to chuckle. "This life forces cynicism and hardness upon you. God will give you back some joy in honest laughter, if only--"

"This life? But you mistake me, sir. I am not one of your lambs to shepherd home, here to sell myself. I am here to _buy_."

\--

"You see now why I am so disappointed," he said in the pause following, "I had not thought to see such a wickedly clever costume."

I had no thought for the words that came tumbling out, for I was enraged, and I shook the man. I, having never laid hands upon a man in anger before and well shocked at myself.

"It is a special kind of wickedness that seeks out such vice and indulges it," I said furiously, "and were you merely a sad creature that is forced by poverty into this depravation God would understand your desparation. But you are proud of your sin, Sir, are you not?"

I stopped, for as I shook him such a change came over the man that startled me. His demeanour changed from that of the cockerel to the mouse, his eyes wide and a blush upon his cheek as he stuttered out his demons.

"No indeed I am not," he said, "even though I do boast of my sin I do it from compulsion, for I cannot help myself." He looked down at the space I had left between us, and was unable to meet my gaze, wringing his hands together whilst he told me the devilish cravings that came upon him. Such a confession, come straight upon my unforgiveable handling of him, made my resolve strengthen to keep him from his nemesis, for surely that was my calling. He was perhaps no angel at all but with the appearance of one when the lamps left a circlet of light upon his fair bowed head, but surely that did not mean I should abandon his need to the temptation inside the house. I could not in conscience permit it, and other nights I could return here to my business proper.

"You must not stay here," I said, and laid my hand upon his head briefly that he might know my anger had passed, and at that he looked up and did tell me his lodgings.

\--

Draco Malfoy gave me his curious name, and told me that his family were Catholic and dead, himself having no brothers or sisters. I told him I had more than enough to spare him a little if he minded not the noise, and that a family would do well for him and keep him from his demons, and then we were at W__ Place when he had just told me of his independence and idleness.

"Put a lock upon your door and wrap around it your mother's rosary," I said, preparing to take my leave of him, when he beseeched me to come stay and talk with him more for comfort.

"I cannot hear your confession and absolve you proper," I warned him, "for I am not yet ordained for that purpose, though it be a short time away."

"Does a few weeks matter to God in this case?" He poured wine and water for us and bade me sit upon his chaise. "I swear I would not venture yet to church to tell these sins. My guilt is so great that it is only now, that you have caught me unawares, that I can look a priest in the eye and say my faults."

"I am not yet--" I stopped short when he knelt before me on the floor and put his finger to my mouth.

"Please," he said. "Let me tell you all I have done that you may know I need your--God's--help."

I nodded mutely at his sincerity, for who can not fail to be moved by a man who admits his failing at the feet of a stranger?

\--

Kneeling he remained and sipped only once of his wine while he spoke. I had great need of my own refreshment for Mr Malfoy reported the history of his sin in length and detail, and my mouth was made dry by his utterances. Do not think that I was a blushing stranger to the types of story he told, for one cannot spend time amongst whores without hearing a good deal of gleeful and candid description of both the size of their sins and the pricks that they did service, and Malfoy was no different, and did tell me of his versatility and preferences.

I could bear only a little description from such an incongruously fair countenance, and asked the origin of his vice.

"At school I had a master who would have me over his desk for his pleasure instead of the strap," he said, his voice hoarse with speaking and his shame. "He was liberal in his punishments and had often a half-dozen boys to flog at the end of a day, but always he would keep me until last, having had me watch him tan my fellows' bare arses." He chewed his bottom lip. "And though he was rough I found I liked it, even though I knew it to be unnatural, and soon I was fighting and insolent to earn his punishments, and I think he knew it."

"He did you a great disservice indeed, to indulge you," I said, but Malfoy interrupted me, and asked,

"Do you think I would have become so wicked without such an introduction?" His voice dropped, and he looked down again, and I thought he was embarrassed. "Do you think I would still crave another man touching me and using me so?"

I did not know, and said so, because who is to know what trials God places before us? It was a sentiment I felt fully at that moment, for no man could have listened to such descriptions of the sex act without his own response, and my own cheeks burned as I realised my reaction became more prominent when Malfoy talked of punishment. My nightly suffering at the sound of the Father's flagellation was nothing compared to this.

"You cannot imagine," he whispered, "what it is to lie awake nights and think of a beautiful prick in your mouth or your arse, and have no fortitude to resist the temptation of boys available for mere money a few streets away. And to know that it is sin, but to have no defense against such longing. It is a _possession_ , Father--

"--I am _not_ \--"

"--I must call you so, please, let me," he implored, "a possession that even your collar does not stop, for I must confess more, Father, that I think of your absolution as my schoolmaster considered my punishment," and here he laid his hands upon my knees and leaned forward as if to kiss me, and it was here that I saw his expression fully, and that there was manipulation in his pleading, and I saw that he had more motive than the telling of his sins for forgiveness.

Still I was horrified at myself, for I had his collar in my grasp and had hauled him to his feet, a whiteness of anger clouding my sight at being so used, and had pushed him back on to his own dressing-table before any rational thought came to my mind. Even then it was to hiss at him.

"Such a punishment I should give you, and properly, for you have a snake in your heart that would appeal to those who might help you and yet you strike out with the venom of your sin." His eyes shut in pain as I tightened my grip on his collar and turned him, pushed him face down, sickened by his taunting grin.

"Dare you do it then, man," he stuttered out, 'for I am certain God should forgive _you_ , as an instrument of his own wrath against my wickedness." He was pliant, then, and gave up his struggle to escape, and pushed himself back against my thighs which held him down, and spoke in a low voice with which I think he meant to seduce me. "Besides, your prick seems eager even if you are not. Is it as they say amongst priests, that sodomy is rife?"

Had I not moved my hand from his neck I might have snapped it, for I gripped the table with such fierceness at his provocation I felt the bones in my hands crack. I could not reply, could not speak but to utter "--wicked--", and was in horror at my own hardness and excitement, for I could not help the irresistible pressure of his body against my own even as he had his hands to his breeches and had bared his arse.

The mortal terror that should have gripped me was gone when my gaze lit upon his dresser and its contents, for he was clean-shaven against the fashion, and laid across his water pitcher was a shaving strop that my overheated brain thought to solve my predicament. Stepping back I grasped the leather and did not think before bringing it down across his white skin, once, twice before he cried out loud and harsh.

"This is the punishment that you should have had long ago," I said, my own breathing laboured, and I struck his arse again before he could make a noise and delighted cruelly when it came, a sobbing gasp that was not intelligible. "This is what you should suffer everyday, and suffer gladly, because you wallow in your sin and inflict it on others with joy and malice," I strapped him again, and put my hand across the angry mark I left, and he moaned unrestrained and ground his hips towards me wantonly.

"Please," was all he said, and I cared not if he asked for more or less. The crack of the strop on his skin, loud and present, was the sound I had strained to hear so faintly each night in my cell, and it was then I came to realise my addiction to this perversion was nothing pious, and I should have been deep in shame. I was not. I laid blows upon the boy's wriggling arse until he sobbed in earnest and I ached in my arm. I cannot say what I spoke, for I am sure it was blasphemy, justifying my lust and provoking his submission, and the haze of my desire to have him repentant overcame me completely.

Only when he fell quiet, hiccupping little cries with each strike, did I think to stop, and for a moment I fell to my own knees with realisation, thinking to have disappointed God in the most appalling way, and laid my palms on his bright red skin to cool the heat, a meek gesture of contrition. He did surprise me, and if he were a woman I would call him a vixen, for he let out a small sigh and arched his back like a cat, for I had forgot that there were those who might take pleasure in their own pain as I took pleasure in its infliction. His legs were spread astride, and from on my knees I could see his swollen prick before me, flushed red and evidence of his arousal.

He sighed again and stretched out his arms before him, and I could not contain what desire he provoked in me, even as I wished to hurt and humble him for his taunting. I had risen to my feet and undone my garments swiftly before I even knew it.

"Your hand," he said, voice cracking, "give it to me," and he brought it to his mouth for a kiss before spitting greatly upon it, and bade me coat my prick. I almost came undone in my own hand and grasped myself tight to prevent such a spill, for I had lost my way completely and was inflamed by Malfoy's stories of the tightness of a man's body. No more was I godly that night, and as I pushed my prick into his arse I had no heavenly guidance apart from the angel I had laid out before me.

To my own shame I had lain with a girl before entering my vocation, and justified it as youth and necessary experience, but such a messy fumbling I would not compare to the surge of powerful lust I had now. Each stroke was desperate and never-ending, a fire in my belly and groin that weakened my spine. I gripped Malfoy's hips, sharp bones in my palms, and pulled his still-flaming skin against my own again and again. I think I did groan loudly when he reached between us to take himself in hand, and for a minute I stopped to watch him pull hard and desperate on his prick, the slap of his sweated skin loud underneath us as he sped up. He was inarticulate at the end, harsh grunts as he began to convulse around me, and I could not contain myself then but held him down fast against the dresser while I used him.

He was spent for only a few moments before he began a stream of provocation, imploring my own end. I had wrapped a hand hard around myself to delay it, even while I thrust into him, but it was too much, and he was too clever and tightened his arse around me, and I came to such a climax that I shuddered hard and cried out with utter bliss as I spilled inside him.

\--

I had no resolve thereafter, and sat heavily upon the chaise to gather my wits and courage, but no thoughts would come to strengthen me, for I felt the very foundations of my being to have been shaken, and I did not know myself. I closed my eyes so that I might not dwell upon Malfoy before me, who had turned and stood with critical observation such as one might view a stranger from another country.

"I do not know if I am forgiven," he said, and he was serious, no guile or mockery in his tone, "but I would that God gave you leave to minister in this manner."

He lifted his glass and drank from it, and offered it to me, and I left my reservations until the morning, and drank of his wine.

\--

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> For [some](http://ship-of-fools.com/Mystery/2002/Pics/ChristKingLondon.jpg) [pictures](http://www.victorianlondon.org/ql/qr316.gif) and little history on the [Church of Christ the King](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Church_of_Christ_the_King,_Bloomsbury) and the [Catholic Apostolics](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Catholic_Apostolic_Church).  
> More on C___ Street and Victorian London gay brothels, click [here](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cleveland_Street_scandal).
> 
> [Originally posted](http://pornish-pixies.livejournal.com/168868.html) 2004 at pornish_pixies on LJ for a fantasy fest challenge, with cloisonne's prompt: "Ron/Draco, with a side of Snape. Victorian AU. Dark!fic. Rent boy. BDSM."


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